A Fine Summer's Day by Charles Todd

Author:Charles Todd [Todd, Charles]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, Historical, Suspense
ISBN: 9780062237125
Amazon: 0062237128
Barnesnoble: 0062237128
Goodreads: 22103866
Publisher: William Morrow
Published: 2015-01-06T06:00:00+00:00

11

Rutledge breakfasted alone. Gilbert, he was told, seldom appeared downstairs before ten, if he’d gone up to his room the night before.

He walked out to the terrace with his teacup, sniffing the rain-washed summer morning, and watched bees hunting nectar in the hollyhocks in the gardens on either side of the terrace, although many of them, like the delphiniums, were beaten down by the storm.

As he finished his tea, his thoughts turned to Jean, and he wondered what she was doing today—shopping with her mother or her bevy of bridesmaids, or sleeping in after coming home late from a party. He wanted her to enjoy herself, to do the things she had always loved doing. But he would have liked to be there at her side, watching her face light up with happiness. Once this inquiry was closed, he would ask for a week of leave to make up for so much time away from London.

That brought him to consider his work, the Yard, the long hours in London and the frequent days away from the city. For the first time he doubted that it was suitable employment for Jean’s husband. Perhaps Major Gordon had been right after all. And there would be children, he’d be away from them as often as he’d be away from their mother. Was it really for the best that he’d stubbornly resisted any suggestion of a change? That he clung to what had seemed to him the work he wanted to do, without weighing the cost?

For that matter, he’d left Frances to her own devices more often than he should. More often than was wise.

Was a man’s desire to do what he felt he’d been born to do merely a selfishness that he was blind to? Was it the excitement of the chase, of outsmarting the murderer, rather than his concern for the victim, who no longer had a voice? Was that victim merely an excuse to clothe his own shortcomings?

He’d never looked at the Yard from that angle before, and it was unsettling.

Turning, he walked back across the terrace and stepped in through the sitting room windows. Half blinded by the sunlight, he blinked.

Gilbert was sitting there in his chair, the shawl around his shoulders, looking up at Rutledge as if he’d never moved last night.

Startled, he said, “Good morning! I was told you never showed yourself until ten at the earliest.”

Gilbert chuckled. “I told you I seldom slept. I’ve written out a list of QCs who may’ve tried cases in Bristol. It’s not complete, but it’s the best I could do. A few names had to be struck from the list when I remembered that the poor devil was already dead. But there it is.”

He took a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and passed it to Rutledge. “You were right about the storm, of course. Best display of pyrotechnics I’ve seen in quite a while. But we have long views here, we can watch storms roll in. At least I enjoy that.

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